


Tenth Avenue Freeze Out

by Lasha



Category: Die Hard (Movies), Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: M/M, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasha/pseuds/Lasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is too old for this shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tenth Avenue Freeze Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HalfshellVenus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfshellVenus/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this!

54 days.

John McClane scowled down at the phone in his hand, cursing at the text message hovering there.

Fifty-four days was all he had left until he retired.

He promised Lucy, Jack, Matt, Zeus, Al, his Captain, and even Holly that he’d stop his ‘cowboy’ ways prior to leaving the NYPD. Lucy had said, “No sense in getting yourself killed before you can enjoy your retirement, Dad.”

Yeah, he’d promised. But then they hadn’t known this situation would occur now had they?

John side-eyed the Chase Bank on the corner of Ralph Avenue like it had physically been put on this earth to fuck up his life. The building was surrounded by ten cop cars, one SWAT armored vehicle and by the looks of it, six local television trucks.

A tall figure turned and headed towards John. Reluctantly leaving his position with the best view of the bank, John walked, his movements stiff and awkward, not used to being an observer in a hostage situation. He met the scene commander in the middle of street. From this vantage, John could hear the police negotiator talking to the bank robber with a bull horn. The idiot inside the bank didn’t have a cell phone.

And, by the way, who didn’t have a cell phone anymore? Even John had one. Courtesy of Matt, a ‘hey, you survived Russia’ present and ‘next time call to let me know you’re alive, asshole,’ rather than an honest to god gift. But still, John McClane had a cell phone.

Gesturing to said gift, Lieutenant Shelton asked, “Your source in the bank given you any more details on the robber?”

John shook his head decisively in the negative. “Nothing new from the last update I gave you.”

The man swore. “Shit, McClane. I was hoping for better news. The higher ups are getting antsy.”

“That’s not my problem, Shelton.” John’s voice hardened ruthlessly. “But I can make it mine, if you want.”

Shelton cursed again. “Fuck my life.” He stared directly at John. “No heroics, McClane. I’ll have your badge if you take one step in the direction of that bank. Got it?” With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving John standing in the street.

John considered flipping Shelton the bird as he walked away, but decided against it with all the camera crews around. His captain had warned him about pissing off anyone before John retired. He claimed it created paperwork, and John’s captain hated paperwork.

Fifty-four days.

Doing a complete circle around the scene behind the police tape, John still couldn’t see a good way to enter the building. SWAT must have been thinking the same thing because they’d pulled back their presence, leaving the snipers on the roofs opposite the bank. However, that hadn’t stopped the entire Brooklyn neighborhood from hanging out their windows to try and catch a glimpse of the hostage situation. They were stuck watching it unfold, just like John.

Glancing to his left, he saw two nondescript brown cars arrive; it was now John’s turn to curse. Government vehicles.

The Feds were here. The situation was going to be taken out of the NYPD’s hands. As the FBI agents approached the hostage negotiator and Shelton, John could see them signal their men to pull back.

Shit!

Pulling out his iPhone 6, John quickly texted his source inside the bank.

_FBI here. Get out if you can before they fuck it up._

_How do I do that? No back door/window. Checked. Not all of us are Superman._

John expected the smart-ass answer. Trust Matt to be in the one bank in all of Brooklyn that gets robbed on a Friday afternoon during lunch. If the kid didn’t have bad luck, he’d have no luck at all.

_Is the gunman still in the lobby?_

_I think._

_R U still in bathroom?_ John texted.

_Yes._

_Lock door. If FBI/SWAT comes in, I want u safe._

_This isn’t my first rodeo, McClane. Of course I locked the door._

Jesus Christ, even Matt’s texts sounded snarky.

John’s concentration was broken by the sudden disbursement of tear gas busting through the front window of the bank. He could see the SWAT guys moving in, ready to go in the front door, battering ram at the ready.

_Matt, get ready. SWAT coming._

As soon as Matthew walked out of the bank, they were going to have a long conversation about a certain promise he’d made not to involve himself in any trouble before he retired. Because sitting here helpless while Matt was inside and vulnerable wasn’t helping his aging heart. Paperwork be damned, next time he was going in.

Four mind-numbingly scary minutes later, John watched as two SWAT guys carried out the bank robber, one screaming to the other first responders to get an ambulance. Since John hadn’t heard any gunfire, he wondered how the man had gotten hurt. Right after that, what appeared to be the bank hostages came out the doors, one at a time, hands on their heads, a precaution to make sure the robber didn’t have any accomplices who might be carrying a weapon.

John pushed his way through the throng of police crowding the scene, flashing his badge as he went, searching for Matt as each person exited the bank. There was a lull after the last woman came out, and John’s breathing quickened.

Where was Matt?

Just as the thought entered his mind, John saw Matt, flanked by Shelton and two FBI agents. Their eyes met, and Matt flashed his trademark grin and a thumbs up sign. John could finally breathe normally. No wonder Holly had divorced him. Being on the other side of a hostage situation when a loved one was involved was nerve racking.

In a lightning fast motion, Matt broke away from the agents and ran towards John. When they reached each other, John pulled Matt to him roughly, almost violently, to him, whispering, “Way to nearly give an old man a heart attack, Matthew.”

“Old man, my ass,” came Matt’s response as he grabbed John’s face and crushed their lips together.

Matt’s mouth moved over John’s, the kiss urgent and demanding, leaving John’s mouth burning with fire. Finally, they broke apart, and Matt buried his face in John’s neck, breathing in a kiss there. John could feel Matt’s body tremble against his and he pulled his lover in tighter, comforting the younger man.

A clearing of someone’s throat brought John back to the real world.

John saw Shelton behind them. “Do you mind?” He barked out. “I’m kissing my husband.”

“Actually, I do, McClane,” the other man countered. “I need Mr. Farrell’s statement about how he disabled the bank robber.”

John raised an eyebrow, “Matt, you did what? I thought I told you to stay in the locked bathroom!”

Matt broke away from John’s embrace and blushed. “It just sort of happened, McClane. The guy freaked out when the cops started busting down the front door-”

“And this involved you how?” John asked testily.

“He tried to come in the bathroom. So I had to improvise, McClane-style.” Matt said.

“This ‘improvising’ included what?”

Matt gestured widely, avoiding John’s eyes as he danced around with frantic energy, finally answering. “I may have hit the guy in the head with a fire extinguisher as he came into the bathroom, and knocked him out cold.”

He could hear Shelton chuckle at Matt’s response, and John glared at him, which promptly shut the other cop up.

John sighed loudly and was about to reply, when Matt interrupted him.

“I don’t want to hear it, John.”

John opened his mouth.

Matt shook his finger. “Not a word! If you had been in there, I’m not sure the building would still be standing. So don’t give me that look.”

“He’s got a point, McClane,” Shelton said.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Shelton. Don’t you have a report to write?” John growled.

Shelton held his hands up in surrender and backed away, but looked at Matt. “I still need your statement, Mr. Farrell.” He smiled like a shark. “When you’re done explaining it to your husband, of course.” He walked away.

“Asshole.”

Matt laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. I pull a stunt straight out of the McClane playbook, and yet you’re mad at me. Perhaps you can call your ex-wife and commiserate on how sucky it is being married to a superhero.”

“Superhero uh?” John stated. “Getting a little ahead of yourself aren’t you? I think you have to save the world at least _twice_ before they give you that title, Matt.”

“Please. Batman had nothing on me today, John. I was fast, fierce and BAM, bad guy was out like a light!” Matt put up his fists and danced around, dodging and weaving like a prizefighter.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Slow your roll there, Mohammed Ali. Taking down one bank robber doesn’t make you the Caped Crusader.”

John grabbed Matt and pulled him close, his arms encircling him, one hand in the small of his husband’s back. In return, Matt wrapped his arms loosely around John’s neck and molded his body to John’s. “This makes two times I saved the world. First was with you, remember?”

“As if I could ever forget. I haven’t been able to shake you since,” John grumbled, “despite many attempts.”

“You could try; McClane, but I’d always find you.” Matt dropped his chin to John’s chest with a sigh of pleasure, and John relaxed, sinking into the familiar warmth of his embrace.

“How about we talk about your harebrained stunt later. For now, let’s give Shelton his statement and go home.” John paused. “I’m too old for this shit anymore.”

“Yippee ki-yay?” Matt’s smile was eager and alive with affection and delight.

A glint of humor finally returned to John’s soul now that Matt was safe and where he belonged. He replied, “You forgot the mother fucker, Kid.”


End file.
